


Beneath

by princess_corbin_x



Category: General Hospital (TV 1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Bram - Freeform, Crack Relationships, F/M, Futuristic, Post-Apocalypse, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29628087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_corbin_x/pseuds/princess_corbin_x
Summary: He wasliterallythe last man on earth.
Relationships: Brando Corbin/Samantha "Sam" McCall
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A dark-ish Sam/Brando futuristic story. There was once an apocalypse that wiped out the world's population except for Brando and Sam, of course. These 2 are one of my most beloved crack ships.

**One**

Her laughter reaches his ears. _ Half-madness; half-irony. _ He sits at the entrance to the tent, polishing the hilt of his double-barrel shotgun. His eyes flick across the clearing, where she sprawls on her back before the fire. Her faded black shirt is open; the buttons long since scattered away. Her breasts are soft and full, the nipples forming hard little points in the cold night air.

Their eyes lock in the smoky darkness. She crooks her pinky finger.  _ No pretense, no shame.  _ Everybody else is dead. Who is left there to judge them?

He keeps the rifle tucked under his arm as he approaches her; finally sets it aside when he drops his tattered denim jeans to the ground.

He sinks deep inside her heat. Her nails nip into the skin of his ass. Their coupling is fast, needy, primal, as it always is. Both are filthy and breathless from writhing in the dirt.

She laughs as she scoots away. The sound is high, scratchy, hypnotic.

“What’s so funny?” He asks.

Her plump lips turn up in an almost smirk. She shakes her head. “Maxie.”

_ “Maxie?”  _ He vaguely remembers the pixie blonde. Sam’s best girlfriend, long since dead. One of the first. They always make a conscientious effort not to speak of the past so this is certainly a shift.

Sam nods. A sweaty lock of ebony hair spills down her cheek. He has the strongest urge to capture the strand between his fingers. He resists. It would be too intimate. Too personal. They have agreed to share everything: everything  _ but _ their hearts.

“Yes, Maxie,” she allows. “I keep thinking about what she would say if she could see us now. You know, I told her once I wouldn’t let you touch me if you were the last man on earth, but I lied, didn’t I?  _ I lied. _ I let you touch me.  _ A lot. _ And now I’ve got your kid inside of me.”

His eyes go wide. His mouth is dry as the desert. “You’re … You’re pregnant?” He manages to choke out.

She looks at her hands, splayed on her bare kneecaps. Brando thinks he sees a rare trace of vulnerability in her downturned gaze.

They’ve both lost a lot, but his losses pale in comparison to hers. She had a husband once, two beautiful young children. She’d spent the better part of a decade doing anything she could to avoid thinking about them because it hurt too damn much.

“Yeah, I am,” she snickers mirthlessly. “Don’t you dare ask me if it's yours.”

“Come on. I would never ask that.” He knows even  _ if _ there were other men in the world, she would never run around behind his back. She’s too loyal to him, even if she will never let herself trust him.

His voice is soft, full of awe. “Thanks for telling me.”

She shakes her head, clears her throat, gives him a light shove. “Don’t get sentimental on me, Brando,” she says. “This isn’t some beautiful family moment. We’re not in love. As the last two people on earth, think of this as repopulating. That’s it. That’s all it can ever be.” It’s all she will ever  _ allow _ it to be.

She picks herself up off the hard ground and slips down the river bank a few feet away.

The pale moonlight dances on the surface of the dark water, and the night is still.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every human besides Sam and Brando is long-since dead, but I didn't say anything about _other_ creatures...

**Chapter 2**

The hormones make her ravenous. She rides Brando every night, her massive belly between them, large tits bouncing as they shake the flimsy tent walls.

She disappears before every dawn, off someplace he can’t follow. Brando wonders if he only conjured her up in his lonely mind.

They never talk about the baby. If it will be a boy or girl, or if it will survive.

00000

Screams assault his ears. Shotgun in hand, he breaks into a dead run. Following the sound of her desperate cries, he charges through the clearing, catapults down a rocky bank.

Five salivating dogs surround Sam. Emaciated, ribcages protruding, they are all sores and patchy fur.

If he doesn’t act quickly, _she will be their dinner._

Heart lodged firmly in his throat, breaths shallow and heavy, he fires off a shot from twenty feet, praying it won’t hit Sam. She screeches in protest as one of the hounds hits the ground hard at her feet. He fires off another shot, but they don't scatter. They’re ravenous. Far too hungry to be scared.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Sam shouts. One of the beasts, saliva dripping from its blackened teeth, snarls, and leaps at her. Brando’s bullet catches it squarely between its jutting ribs. It makes a pained  _ yip _ as Sam heaves herself from its path. She lands on the ground twelve feet away with a hard  _ thump _ ! 

Brando’s instinct is to run to her, to make sure she’s alright, but he can’t because the other three animals are fast closing in on her. He bellows at her to stay on the ground as he sprays a barrage of bullets at the rest of the pack. Sam is quiet, still.  _ Too  _ quiet. He’s told her before that she talks too much, and it’s true, but her silence right now about does him in. He’d rather she screams obscenities at him than just lay there with her face half-buried in the dirt.

He takes out the remaining dogs with the last of his ammunition. He usually feels guilty, ashamed, when he has to kill anything, but not today. He’s  _ furious.  _ Anger and fear lace through his pulsing veins.

Roughly shoving aside mangy carcasses, he drops to his knees at Sam’s side. He gently turns her face to him, rubs some of the dirt from her cheeks with the calloused pads of his thumbs. She stares up at him, wordlessly.

“Hey, hey now,” Brando says quietly. “They’re done for, okay? Those fucking things are done for. Now, tell me you’re alright.”

Sam stares at him, eyes glassy. “Come on, say something. Anything.” He stares at her, knots a wild black curl around his finger. “Sam, yell at me. Cuss at me. Just say something.”

She murmurs something, but the words are garbled. They don’t make any sense.

Brando’s heart races; thuds painfully against his ribcage. “Okay then. Let’s get you up, alright?” He says. “On the count of three. One -”

She groans as he gingerly slips his hand beneath her. Her body is twisted at an almost unnatural angle. “Where does it hurt?” He asks. “Sam, tell me.”

She tries lifting her head but can’t manage it. Instead, she looks downward. His eyes travel the length of her. She’s just wearing a cheap black dress, the tattered cotton half bunched up her filthy legs.

Then he sees it. The sticky tracks of crimson marring her shapely thighs.

A hiss escapes his mouth at the sight of the puddle of blood pooling beneath her.

She finally speaks. Just two muffled words, but they shatter what remains of his sanity.

_ “The baby…” _


End file.
